


A Valentine's Day Surprise for Two...Couples.

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Series: Fake Fiances and True Love [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Valentine's Day, Wait for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9720581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: The true story of how Mr. Gold was engaged to Belle French on Valentine's Day...sort of.





	

Belle had spent three lovely years as Mr. Gold's girlfriend. Oh, she knew his first name and all, but it sounded horrible in her Aussie voice and he hated the tangled mass of Scottish Gaelic syllables to start with, so she infintely preferred Gold, or pet names murmured for his ears only.

Belle's father hadn't exactly been thrilled when he realized she was dating a man just five years younger than himself. That the person was _Mr. Gold_ , who according to the rumor mill beat orphans and bathed in the blood of his tenants, (which were only slight exaggerations on the actual exaggerations, mind you,) didn't help matters. Ironically, Moe French had also been pushing for Belle to get married and make babies since she was in college, so there was a certain element of hypocrisy here.

However, Gold hadn't brought up marriage. It wasn't like she was bringing up marriage either, though they had talked about moving in together now.

Honestly, Belle sometimes didn't see how marriage would change anything, though. They were in love, they knew the little quirks and oddities of each other and were still in love for it, and while perhaps they'd settled into something of a routine with lunch at the pawnshop each Wednesday and a Netflix night on Friday alternating between their places, it wasn't really boring. It was comfortable. Belle was comfortable.

And happy, genuinely _happy_. That mattered more to her than all the wedding bands and bridal gowns in the world.

However, she noticed at the turn of the New Year that Gold was acting oddly. Actually, she didn't notice it until closer to February, come to think of it. He'd walked out the room while he was on the phone, going so far as standing outside on the porch to finish where she couldn't hear him. He'd waved off her questions as being a client, and Belle didn't think Gold would lie to her...

However, that little bit of insecurity that she could never escape whispered that he was bored, even if she wasn't.

Gold was a very handsome older man. He oozed sex appeal with his silver-kissed hair, bedroom eyes, the grace in his posture, the gorgeous suits, and that voice. Oh, that voice. Despite his every self-deprecating comment to the contrary, that alone could've got him any woman he wanted. Add in the wealth and sophistication factors, the romantic soft side that brought Colonel Brandon to mind every time, and his fine manners?

Belle wasn't sure how he was unattached when he strode into the flower shop and demanded that FU arrangement for Mayor Mills.

He had to have been bored with her, and Belle had done a quick internet search on work computer at the library one afternoon that lead to a rather scandalously fun encounter in the pawnshop that afternoon, but she still wasn't sure about any long-term solutions short of working up the nerve and asking, _"Are you bored with me?"_

For some reason, those were five terribly hard words to say aloud.

The five days before Valentines Day, when Belle was wracking her brain for something fresh they could do since they'd spent the last two holidays together at Tony's Kitchen in differance to Belle's love of Italian and went home to play with her last fresh idea, chocolate body paint, Gold had dropped by the library with that little smile that meant he had a surprise for her.

Belle really thought it was cute how he turned into a shy schoolboy sometimes. It made it very hard not to snog him over her desk.

"Have you heard about that new restaurant? The French place?"

"Chez le Rongeur?" Belle blinked. "Yes...why?"

"Well, how do you feel about going there for Valentine's Day?" he smiled. "I've secured a reservation for about seven o'clock. What do you think?"

It was different, and honestly, Belle had heard good things about Chez le Rongeur. It was a French bistro that reinvented several classic dishes in what was reported to be delicious ways. One of Ruby's dates had taken her there in a blatant show of wealth/class that was...well, cheap and classless, according to Ruby. Although she added that the food was spectacular. Hmm!

"Sounds like fun. I've heard the Petit Gâteau is to die for."

"Mm. We'll have to remember that," Gold hummed, pressing a kiss to her hand before leaving her to her work for the rest of the afternoon with a giddy feeling in her belly.

And a funny feeling in her throat...

Belle had wanted to put it off as dehydration. Only her throat continued to feel sore the next day, that cold dripping feeling that meant you were sick worsening on the day after that, and lo and behold, the day before Valentines Day and their dinner date, Belle's head was so congested she felt like her eyes were fit to burst and she had to breathe out her mouth.

She felt only slightly worse when she called Gold and had to cancel, her voice sounding unnaturally loud to her stopped-up ears. Gold had asked a half dozen variations of "are you okay?" while assuring her it was no trouble to cancel their reservations.

So much for keeping things fresh, Belle groaned after she hung up, sinking into a cocoon of warm blankets and disgust at her pathetic immune system failing her now...

* * *

"Say that again?" Neal blinked.

_"I have reservations to Chez le Rongeur, for seven o'clock tomorrow night, do you want them?"_

"Like...with you? Can't you take Belle?"

Maybe Neal was being a little dense about it, but he swore he heard his father rolling his eyes over the phone.

 _"Not with_ me. _Belle's come down with something so we can't go, and I thought you'd like to take Ms. Swan out. I've already covered most of the bill in advance so it'd save everyone a lot of hassle if someone showed up under the name of Mr. Gold tomorrow."_

"You had a whole Valentines suprise planned out, didn't you?" Neal chuckled. "You are such a sap sometimes."

 _"Yes, yes,"_ Papa brushed him off. _"I'm a terrible romantic at heart. Now, do you want the reservations or not? Belle tells me they have some sort of dessert concoction, like one of those lava cakes or something. That's sort of your thing with Ms. Swan, isn't it?"_

"Yeah. We have free cake, and you and Belle have profanity."

There was a snort of a laugh that indicated his father was rather amused. _"Fair enough. I take it you'll make use of them?"_

"I'll check with Emma, but I think we will. Thanks Papa."

_"Don't mention it. Let me know and I'll call the restaurant to let them know who's coming in..."_

* * *

Emma had rather learned her lesson about trying to dress up to please Neal. It was a stupid, Not-Emma thing to do to start with, but the laidback, respectful way Neal treated her, even while teasing, could knock her for a loop sometimes. She was sort of used to dating boneheads and Neanderthals, and the odd entitled mansplainer.

Still, when he met her for lunch and mentioned his father had offered them the use of his reservations at a restaurant with more than one fork on the table, she had a flicker of panic over what she was supposed to wear.

Not the Sandy Dress though. The Sandy Dress had gone to Goodwill for some virginal good girl to enjoy wearing at the...at _the organic farmer's market that donated proceeds to hungry kittens_ , or something saccharine of that nature.

Out of her closet, at least.

Emma decided to go with her black dress. Sure, it was Valentines Day or whatever. But the black minidress with her one pair of black stockings, and her killer heels? That was a look that said _"I am beautiful and I enjoy it"_  while also looking pretty damn good. Neal had teased her once that confidence was the sexiest thing she wore, though since there was laws against wearing _just_ confidence in public, he'd have to make do with this dress.

Neal had dressed up a little bit, in a white dress shirt, a vest, and tie. Classily casual. For the hell of it, she linked arms with him when they walked from the car to the restaurant doors, and found a seat tucked discreetly off to the side. Well, they were led there.

Classical music was playing from somewhere, and their waiter had a towel over his arm and a French accent. Holy crap, this was really happening.

The lobster bisque was probably as close to heaven as Emma's taste buds would get through soup though, it was certainly worth its rather eyebrow-raising price tag. She made a note to thank Mr. Gold personally for footing the bill, and she suspected Neal was thinking the same thing when he met her eye over the tops of the menus the first time.

Sticker-shock aside, Emma was having a lovely time. She knew Neal wasn't expecting her to put out as a reward for his taking her somewhere fancy, like the Neanderthals did. His Valentine's Day present to her had been just a little keychain he said made him think of her. It was something simple, a silvery little pendant with a swan, on a small, sturdy chain. Something she'd get more use out of than diamonds or a bouquet of roses. It was perfect.

(Emma hadn't gotten him anything, really, but at lunch this afternoon she'd scrawled out **You are a dork, but I love you for it** on a paper napkin and he thanked her with a kiss, "For an excellent Valentine." She refused to dwell on the buzzing feeling that thought gave her.)

Dinner went along nicely. Apparently Gold had gotten the reservations as a surprise for his girlfriend, Belle, who'd come down with a cold. Who knew Gold was such a romantic?

The dessert menu was full of things Emma had never heard of before. Tarts and cakes and little French pastries. There was a petit fours sampler tray that she and Neal had considered seriously, but in the end, Neal had ordered a lemon-raspberry soufflé, and Emma settled on this thing called a Petit Gâteau.

Chocolate cake with a molten center, and a crispy chocolate shell on the outside with a scoop of vanilla drizzled in house-made caramel sauce. Yes. That was her.

They put in an order for both. Emma wasn't sure if the waiter winked at Neal or not, but she knew her boyfriend looked confused too, so...well maybe the waiter was gay, who was she to judge.

And Neal did look awful sharp in that vest...

* * *

With the key to Belle's apartment, Gold let himself in. He found Belle hunkered down under her big ugly comforter, the one with the eye-popping paisley prints like an ugly, colorblind quilt, wheezing on the sofa. A small army of crumpled tissues was scattered about her on the floor or the side table, where an empty glass of water and a bottle of Mucinex was sitting.

"Sweetheart?"

Belle's touseled head popped out from one end of her blanket burrito. Her eyes were red and watery, and his poor girl was pale and pinched-looking.

"Gold? What're you doing here?" she asked, sounding absolutely horrible. Her throat was raspy and her sinuses must've been terrible.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," he replied, locking the door securely and crossing over to her. "How do you feel?"

"Disgusting," she flinched away from his hand. "You don't want this cold, you shouldn't be here."

Gold clucked in what he hoped was more sympathetic than demeaning. Not everyone liked being coddled while they were sick. For example, even when they were on good terms, Milah had snapped at him like a wounded animal when he offered to do something when she felt poor. Neal got very grumbly, so it hadn't just been her latent hatred for him.

He'd rather think about _anything_ than Milah at this moment, though, so he went to the kitchen and set the kettle on while fetching Belle a fresh glass of water. She had the presence of mind to scribble down the time of her last dose of medicine, and he poured her a new dose to take, adding the current time down as well.

Belle made an ugly face when the medicine went down, gulping water behind it. She didn't object to his forehead kiss, in fact, she snuggled into his arms when he sat down on the couch beside her.

"You're gonna get sick," she warned half-heartedly, sighing when he kissed her unwashed hair. "It's not fun."

"I know, darling, I know. I raised Neal, remember? Children of a certain age are little plague carriers in the school system. It'll be okay."

Belle nodded weakly as the kettle whistled. Gold hated leaving her, but decided some hot tea with a little honey would do her some good. He'd poured the hot tea into one of her gaudy tea mugs when he heard a bizarre sound from her living room, like an asmathic elephant.

And then a faint _"ewww..."_

Gold sighed, spooning a little extra honey into her cup of tea.

* * *

Never had Neal been seized by such conflicting urges before.

The waiter had winked at him, and that was really weird. It _was_ dessert, so maybe the guy was just making the last effort at getting a decent tip. Who knew. Neal tried to be polite to people employed in the food service industry so they didn't spit in his food or poison his drink, so there wasn't an issue of that, really.

Then dessert came out. His soufflé was in a little ceramic ramekin, with a smattering of powdered sugar and a dollop of pinkish raspberry cream on top. (The restuarant was French, so maybe that was _creme_ instead.) Emma's Petit Gâteau...had arrived on a tray. It looked like any other chocolate lava cake, a nice little cake, but with a chocolate shell. Ice cream was on the side, covered in caramel and some dainty dark chocolate curls.

And a wedding ring placed with care right on the plate, in the middle of a drizzled caramel heart.

_'Holy shit.'_

The urge Neal had was to stop breathing, which he did. This was followed by a dizzy, faint feeling, and then the urge to jump out the booth and _run_ when Emma looked up at him with big round eyes. Oh crap. _'What the hell? Who on Earth had put a wedding ring on that pl-'_

It clicked in Neal's head a second after it clicked for Emma. She grinned and laughed, plucking up the engagement ring that must've been meant for Belle had Papa's plans panned out correctly. Oh. He hadn't ever gotten around to calling Papa back. He probably didn't cancel his plans after all. Oh. Oh.

The waiter had discretely backed away with a stupid grin on his face, and Neal was just glad that nobody was really paying attention to them. The last thing he needed was the whole damned restaurant thinking he'd popped the question.

"Surprise?" he exhaled, less a question if she were surprised and a confirmation she was thinking the same thing.

"I have to hand it to your father, I didn't expect this out of him," Emma confessed, eyeing the ring. "It's a nice piece, I can see Belle wearing it."

"Yeah..." It wasn't a traditional diamond ring. (According to Papa, diamond rings had started as a ruse to sell diamonds, a fad that took off.) Instead, was a bright blue circular stone woven into a gold band, with two seed pearls set on either side. It was very Belle.

Emma smiled at him then, handing it to him from across the table and toeing his ankle. "Hey. Don't worry. I know you wouldn't propose to me."

"You...didn't?" Not that Neal was afraid of marriage, but considering Emma was a very guarded person and liked to take things slow and steady, he couldn't help but think what a disaster it would be proposing in the middle of a restaurant like this...

"Nope. That look of terror on your face said it all."

Oh.

"Well..." Neal laughed nervously, pocketing the ring for safekeeping. "At least we were on the same page."

"Completely," Emma agreed, picking up her spoon. "Now. I'll trade you a bite of this for that soufflé?"

"Deal."

* * *

Belle woke up the next morning in bed, curled up as the little spoon on her right side. Her right nostril was clogged, and her throat was achingly dry, but, she herself was warm and toasty with...who's arm was that?

Oh.

Right.

Belle remembered now; Gold had come over last night, on Valentine's Day, the greeting card company holiday that would have you believe it was all about romantic gestures and sex. Well, there was, in Belle's opinion, no more romantic a gesture than taking care of a sick loved one, especially when there was no ulterior motive. Well, Gold had gotten her in the shower, but Belle needed the bath as much as he'd wanted to touch her wet and naked, and even that had been surprisingly chaste.

Y'know, for the nakedness.

Belle shuffled to the bathroom. She blew her stuffy nose in there, because even though she loved Gold and appreciated his care, she didn't fancy doing an impression of a foghorn right in front of him...and there was way more snot than she was comfortable with, anyway. Ick.

When she came out, Gold was sitting up in bed, looking sleepily around the bedroom. He was wearing the sweatpants and tank top he left over as pajamas, and Belle smiled at the silly little lizard tattoo on his shoulder, and how his hair stuck in every direction.

He smiled back at her, too, and something shifted in Belle's chest that wasn't mucus.

She loved him. She knew that, but...this was _more_. Somehow. Belle loved Gold with her whole heart, and loved her boring little life with him, and loved how he looked rumpled and drowsy in the morning, and how he made her feel loved when she had a head full of snot. How he adored her with clothes on in an innocent setting as much as he adored stripping her bare and making love.

Belle crossed the room in her ugly oversized sweatshirt and teacup pajama pants, and planted a kiss on Gold's forehead through his ruffled bangs.

"Marry me."

"Hmm?" Gold's brow furrowed as he looked up at her. The poor darling was slow until he had something to eat, but Belle could see the moment it hit him. "What?"

"Marry me," she repeated, cupping his unshaven face in her hands. "I love you more than I can describe in words, from your eyes to your voice to the way you move your hands to the way you take care of me when I'm sick and refuse to eat onions. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Gold blinked. And then one of those beautiful grins split his face and, regardless of her germs, he kissed her on the lips.

"Aye. I would love to marry you. Would you believe I've already got the ring?"

Belle wasn't too surprised. Gold was, after all, full of surprises. He coaxed her to straddle his lap, and kissed her cheek as his arms wound around her, and she let her hands rest on his smooth shoulders. Belle kissed his temple. "Is the ring at your house?"

"No. Don't worry, I'll have Dove pick it up and bring it around when I get the chance. First, I'd like to celebrate our engagement."

"I still feel pretty crappy, I'm sorry to say..."

"Why Miss French, what sort of degenerate do you take me for? And here I was going to make you breakfast in bed."

Belle snorted. "I'm so sorry. I should've known you'd wait until I was well to ruin me before the wedding night."

"Oh, you better believe it," Gold snickered, kissing her sweetly.

 

 

 

 

 

**[The ring](http://www.brilliantearth.com/The-Seycelles-Ring-Gold-BMC66009/?utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=PLA%20Antique%20Rings&utm_term=1100506932424&utm_content=Antique%20Rings) **

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just coming off a week of a blessedly short cold, so I greatly identify with Belle: Sure, wining and dining is romantic. But finding somebody who'll take care of you when your sick and gross and not expect you to make it up to them when you feel better? That is love.
> 
> AND OH MY GOD FRANCE! Why do you have so many delicious desserts?!! Look up Petit Gateau and tell me you don't start drooling!


End file.
